_ _ _ _Ringer

"Allan, I have heard quite interesting things about this new manager you have acquired."

"Oh? Yes, he took to the job like he was built for it- Though, aren't we all?"

"Yes, yes- However, I'm keen on his skills of information gathering. I can't imagine he's being put to his best use merely selling product."

"Care to explain what you mean by that?"

"I'd like to take him off your hands. I could trade you one of my own selection of employees, or perhaps a monetary sum?"

"Hmm. No deal."

"No deal....?"

"As much as I would have loved to haggle with you, the boy is mine. And besides, seeing the look on your face when you don't get what you want is a freebie I couldn't pass up."

"...."

"Yeah. That one. 💜 "

".... Fine. I shall simply find my own informant."

"Sure, just like you, gonna go and settle for second-best because ol' Bravecog got the best!"

-x-x-x-

"Good news, Biggs," The door to the holding cell slid open with a clatter, scattering glints of light across the suit sat within. "Some lady paid your bail and is waiting for you in the lobby. Be sure to give 'er a proper thank you by not ending up back in 'ere, yeah?"

A silver bell swung back and forth as the suit pushed himself up from the floor, where he had been sitting with his back against the wall. Chains clicked as an internal mechanism within him drug his head back to the proper position. He took his jacket back from the cop with a huff.

"I don't make promises to that, that," Denton Biggs scoffed, a sneer in his eyes as he tossed his jacket over his shoulder and strode out of the holding area.

A smaller suit was waiting for him, a pale wisp of a girl he didn't recognize. An unblemished glass face scrutinized him with what looked like disapproval, but lifted her hand and motioned for him to approach.

"So, wot's the big idea 'ere, Missy-issy?" Denton asked. "Never seen you 'round me stompin' grounds, so-"

"I am here on behalf of my employer," She cut him off with a raise of her hand, turning on her heel towards the exit, moving without even asking the other to follow. "He is expecting to meet vith you this evening, and it is my responsibility to ensure you are present."

Blue eyes glanced back over her shoulder, highlighting a grimace on her soft features.

"As vell as presentable." She remarked, opening the back door of a luxurious vehicle and entering. The car was sleek and black, with tinges of glittering red streaked within it's paint.

"I'm not looking for a job," Denton stated, hesitating at the door. "So, thanks for the 'elp with the bobbies, but no thanks, me mum told me not to get into stranger's vans, yeah? Yeah?"

"Monsieur Biggs. I vould not recommend testing ze patience of Sir Corona," The suit in the car stared right into his eyes. "He has made a long trip out to meet vith you specifically. This is a caliber of luck I can assure you have not seen vithin your sorry little lifetime of dereliction."

"Oooh, lil miss dolly gots 'erself a little tea-saurus in her fancy car, don't she? She." Denton taunted, beginning to walk down the sidewalk. "Luck or nah, I got no interest in 'anging around some weird mysterious bloke. I got meself handled-andled!"

"He is willing to perform you an advance of 5 thousand Cybeuros." The woman stated.

Denton stopped in his tracks, barely catching his head before it hit the ground as his chain became slack in surprise.

"Thousands? Thousands of Cybeuros?" Denton repeated, turning back to look at the other suit, who nodded back to him.

Denton quickly scrambled back to the car, hopping into the back with the other suit.

"Fine, maybe I can sit around for one interview. 'Eaven knows me landlady will appreciate it, it." He said, looking around the car interior. It was a really fancy sort, fine leather on the seats, with a little window separating Denton's view from the identity of the driver, and extra seats so the petite suit could sit directly across from him.

"Now, let us fill out the proprietary paper work," She said, a clipboard suddenly in her hand. This vehicle must have some crazy storage as well.

"You 'aven't even told me your name, and now y'want me personal information?" Denton asked.

"I already know plenty about you, Monsieur Biggs. But if you must address me, use my suit name," She replied tersely. "Carte Blanche. And your design designation, you are a Bellring-"

"Hey, hey, hey," Denton rang suddenly, plucking the pen from Carte Blanche's hand. "I may 'ave been built that way, but I ain't no little sales boy knocking on doors all polite-like, right?"

Carte Blanche narrowed her eyes.

"Then what are you, Monsieur Biggs." She asked.

"I'm a... Er," Denton tapped the pen against the car window as his mind lasped to think of a good answer. The girl scowled as she took her pen back.

"Fine. I'll leave it blank, much like your mind...." She growled.

"Think of the money, Denny ol' boy, boy," Denton sighed to himself, rubbing at his temples as Carte Blanche furiously scribbled down information on the paper.

"We will be stopping here." She said over her shoulder to the driver, and turned back to Denton to hand him a key card. "Go to ze room listed on the card. You have two hours to change and make yourself civilized before I return to collect you. There iz a change of clothes waiting for you."

"..... Oi, you guys aren't like... Mafia, right, right?" Denton asked. "Or like, secret agents? I don't kin well t'being shot at either way, y'know, know?"

Carte Blanche only blinked her large blue eyes at him, gesturing him to leave.

"Two hours, Monsieur Biggs." Was her only reply.

-x-x-x-

Denton hated wearing formal attire. Business attire? Either way, it just didn't feel right to not wear something he had personally sewn patches into or roughed up until he was comfortable in it. Cleaning up nice wasn't his thing- Or at least, it hadn't been for a very long time. That much he was able to tell when he had looked at his face in the mirror- A silver visage so scuffed and dented, no amount of polish could make it shine. He hated thinking on it- Mostly because he couldn't afford the bad luck of breaking any more mirrors.

The upscale restaurant was a good distance away from the city he called home. An older building, and even though he had seen larger buildings, this one still towered over him, and as he gazed through the window, he noted the high class furniture and even some golden art piece further in the back.

As he approached the entrance, Denton felt a wave of unease trickle down his chain. He was vastly out of his element- Like a wolf removed from his territory, mind swirling with confusion from an influx of stimuli completely alien to his lifestyle, left only with a response of aggression he had to swallow back as he entered.

Denton's eyes glanced around the interior of the restaurant, fidgeting with his crumpled tie in a nervous attempt to make himself look professional. Whoever this Corona fellow was, they really must have big money to nab a reservation at this place.

"Please, take a seat, Mr. Biggs," A waiter motioned to the balcony seating area. "Sir Corona should not be kept waiting."

"Y-yeah, of course, course," Denton nodded as he awkwardly walked over to the empty table, noting the bottle of fine vintage oil ready and uncorked for him ahead of time. He poured himself a glass as he sat down, eager to try and calm his nerves.

"So, uh, where is the bloke, eh? ... Eh?" Denton looked back to see the waiter had made a hasty exit, leaving him alone in the night air.

"Ah, Mister Biggs, you have finally arrived." A deep voice rumbled out behind Denton, accompanied by a kind of metal creaking he'd only heard from large machinery around the city. Denton turned in his seat, the color in his silver face somehow draining even paler as he looked up.... Up.... And up into the golden sphere that he had thought was just an art piece moments before.

This was Lazarus Corona.

"Sir... Corona." Denton gulped. "So. You're the bloke who sprung me out of the clink... ink."

"How astute an observation," Lazarus swirled his own drink in one hand, a gigantic wine glass cupped in his fingers, filled with what Denton could only imagine was a pool's worth of oil, dark and reflecting the golden glint of his head. "That's exactly the type of observation  I hope to see you exhibit as you work for me."

"I thought this was supposed to be an interview, you know, like with questions and allathat stuff? Stuff?" Denton asked.

"Indeed, it is- But I am confident you will leap at the opportunity I present to you." Lazarus nodded. "Let's say that I have... A score to settle. And I have the inkling that you do as well."

"I knew it, I knew it was mafia stuff!" Denton exclaimed. "The fact you're Italian just seals it- steals it!"

"Mr Biggs...." Lazarus began, only to be cut off by the bell gesturing nearly as loud as his bell.

"I know I got me a bit of a criminal record, yeah- I'm good at roughing a bloke up, bustin' up someone else's property- But I int the murderin' type," Denton continued, drawing some glances from the patrons inside.

"I am not in that type of business," Lazarus cleared his throat and brought his free hand down behind Denton, blocking him from the view of inside- His palm alone was taller than Denton. His ringing clunked into silence as he held his head still.

"Mr Biggs,  I work as the Chief Archivist for the Coal, Oil, and Gas Syndicate," Lazarus explained.

Denton nodded, racking his brain for where he had heard that company before. It was one of those big industries from across the sea, that hadn't been able to entirely anchor itself in Europe yet- Only a dozen shell companies it had bought out over the decades and allowed to operate for brand recognition.

There must have been something else, but Denton couldn't entirely remember in the gleaming presence of Lazarus Corona.

"Not really the archivin' type, meself, self," Denton admitted, and Lazarus sat back up, waving a hand dismissively.

"You shall be trained- Why, even Mademoiselle Molière that you met earlier wasn't an archivist when she entered my employment." Lazarus said.

"Moldy air, eh? No wonder she acts like that, that's the kind of name I would expect on such a little-" Denton wisely chose to cut off his own sentence early.

"And beyond that, there is a current, ahem, project underway in the company that your specific skills may uniquely apply to," Lazarus continued, his crescent-moon smirk growing.

"I don't 'ave any skills," Denton said.

"But you do, Mr Biggs!" Lazarus withdrew a file that looked absurdly small in his hand, reading off it. "Many other employers would balk at such a harrowing criminal record, but my company is engaged in an.... Ongoing altercation with a group of locals stubborn to rail against our endeavors."

"You can't fight 'em yourself?" Denton asked. "You're the biggest suit I've ever seen, ever seen!"

"It doesn't quite work that way," Lazarus glanced to the side, setting his glass down on the floor of the balcony. "Besides, look at you, ragazzo d'argento, so full of vigor and... Frustrations."

"Frustrations?" Denton's head swung to one side.

"No one chooses the life you live because they were treated fairly," Lazarus' eye held a knowing glint as he began to lean in closer. "No, you've been denied your due recognition for quite some time, haven't you? It's a fire that burns your lungs, a gnawing in your mind that has yet to find a proper release, no?"

Denton broke eye contact with the larger suit as he spoke, but something in him couldn't deny that there was a grain of truth in those deep rumblings. He flexed his fists, thumbs running over the rough scratches of knuckles that had hit all builds of suits in it's day.

"Perhaps even a rivalry that you've never been able to settle~?" Lazarus mused as his hands closed in around Denton and his table. "Someone who has always outshone you, despite all effort you've taken to strike your own signature tone?"

Denton glanced down at his reflection in the wine bottle, at his bell that had been mangled by years of accidents, fights, and plain bad luck. Lazarus' words churned up buried, rotten feelings. Feelings of the expectations he could never measure to, the effort and success that went scorned. The one other person who was always there to make him look like a dull echo in comparison.

Denton looked up at Lazarus, then placed his hands firmly on the table as he pushed himself up to stand.

"Alright, if you want a proper scrapper, int nobody better at scrappin' round 'ere than me, yeah? ... Yeah." Denton nodded, glaring out into the distance, blind to the gloating twinkle on Lazarus' features as he drew back from the balcony.

"A wise decision, Mr Biggs... Though within the halls of my employment, you shall need a more fitting title," The Sunsetter mused. "Something that fits your dark inclinations, that strikes the tone of fear in our adversaries... Yes~"

He chuckled as the hourglass of his blind eye flipped, pouring black sand from one side to the other as he regarded his latest acquisition.